


Skin Remembers

by Torchiclove



Category: Within the Wires (Podcast)
Genre: Aesthetic Sex, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 19:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16793539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torchiclove/pseuds/Torchiclove
Summary: A woman named Hester lives in a cottage by the sea.





	Skin Remembers

A woman named Hester lives in a cottage by the sea.

She has light hair, and blue eyes. She wakes in the morning and drinks coffee. She cooks food, nutritious, real meals, with fresh produce. She sits on her couch and she does not look at the painting that hangs on the wall; she does not need to. She knows it is there, and she has seen it before.

She does not have to look at it every day to know it is still there.

There is a woman who lives with Hester in her cottage by the sea.

She has a y-shaped scar that lives on her hip, and a small scar like a creek running down her chin. They are different scars, and she remembers how she got both of them.

She has brown eyes and a cloud of dark hair. She smiles like she is getting away with something, and she is. She holds a warm mug of tea in her hands, on the couch in the cottage by the sea, and she is not alone. She never has to be alone.

She brings to mug to her lips, but it is not the warmth she wants. She places it on the coffee table and seeks the warmth she wants, seeks the warmth of the woman beside her. Hester puts down her tea, too, and the drinks grow cold.

Hester threads her hands through a cloud of dark hair, and she remembers to breath. She thinks of an orchid with pink sepals and a bright vermillion column, and she rolls her body like the waves that crash endlessly against the shore.

She says quietly, insistently, “Oleta.” She enunciates her T’s. The name resonates through the quiet cottage like a chant, like a prayer, a growing crescendo. Her chest heaves as she remembers to breath. It is difficult to remember to breath. Oleta smiles like she’s getting away with something. There is warmth on her lips, there are pink sepals and a vermillion column, there is breath and then the absence of breath. 

Then there is slow, measured breath.

Fingers retract from a cloud of dark hair, and they wander. The wander down familiar pathways. Skin remembers. It remembers more than either of them think. The memory of a thousand nights in a cottage by the sea, with tea growing cold on a coffee table and a painting that is not looked at lives in Oleta’s skin.

There is a bright, yonic flame, and it does not burn to touch. Skin remembers, but skin does not have to remember now. Skin is reminded of all the touches it has ever felt, the gentle precision of a woman who is patient and passionate, who can remove a person like a tumor from a cancerous place.

Hester has a surgeon’s mind, and a surgeon’s fingers. Hester has an artist’s eyes. Oleta has a body that is her own, a body that she controls.

She says, once, a quiet, strangled, “Hester.” The T is so proper, so well-tutted, even as her mind reels and she forgets to breathe. Hester meets her with a gentle kiss, and her lungs remind Oleta to breath.

Together, they remind each other to breath. The warmth from their tea saps into the briney air of a cottage by the sea, and two women remember to breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially: I really like the within the wires style, and I wanted to write something in their style stringing together all the beautiful motifs and metaphors. Also I love women.


End file.
